Spring, I’ve discovered, sucks me outside. Tonight, I went out to mow the grass and bring in the trash cans. I wound up brushing the dog, mowing the grass, bringing in the trashcans. And, along the way, I decided that I should cut back the tiny rose bush in a pot that appears to be dead. That poor little thing should have been trimmed back and moved to the sheltered screened-in porch last fall. It wasn’t. Fall never pulls me outside to complete random tasks. Spring does though. Since I already had the trimmers out, I filled one half of a trash can with pink blossom laden branches from the tree out back. The blossoms are pretty. I was still fairly merciless in trimming them because the branches were weighed down to the point of brushing through the hair of all garage bound pedestrians. They were also primed to drop thousands of blossoms into the yard, which are then not so pretty as they clog the mower and create a slick mess on the sidewalk. I’d like to think that the trees will now only drop a few hundred blossoms in the yard. Life is a series of baby steps, right?
It’s a shame that I wasn’t quite motivated enough to get gloves and pick up the trash out front (thank you, smokers, for the cigarette pack in my bushes) or motivated enough to pick up the dead mouse that I found in the garage. There are just some tasks that even spring can’t inspire me to do spontaneously. I’ll need one day to psych myself up about mouse clean-up.